


Early Morning

by jiro (Allhailpuffinland)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Baking, Gen, Post-Dawnguard DLC, everyone is happy and alive and theyre all friends, post apocrypha, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allhailpuffinland/pseuds/jiro
Summary: Serana tries her best at making some sweetrolls and fails miserably. Thankfully, Miraak steps in and helps her along the way. Somewhat of a continuation of my previous fic where Miraak discovers bread therapy
Relationships: Serana/Valerica (Elder Scrolls), but in a mother-daughter way we're not nasty, in a friendly way - Relationship, serana/miraak
Kudos: 10





	Early Morning

**Author's Note:**

> read this on tumblr : bit.ly/3f2eR7G

Serana stared at the recipe book in front of her, not knowing where or how to start. She had been a master of alchemy since she could hold a grinder and a bowl, but the fine intricacies of baking escaped her. And so, for the tenth time in just a day, she weighted out the correct proportions of flour, sugar, yeast, and all the other ingredients that would give way to a delicious sweetroll.

Her mother’s birthday was today, and she hoped to gift Valerica her favourite pastry. Although both of them were student and teacher at Winterhold’s college, rare were the moments that they could spend together. And fortunately for Serana, while she was taking some time off in Whiterun, her mother had also decided to tag along, staying at a nearby inn, not wanting to intrude in her daughter’s home- or rather, she didn’t want to bother her gloomy roommate.

Serana only had a few hours left before the sun rose over the golden plains, and slowly, she felt a twinge of stress growing in her. Over and over, she recreated the recipe perfectly, and yet, she always failed. What was she not doing correctly? She looked over at a piece of paper covered in scribbles. She had been taking notes of each of her attempts, to try and figure out what she was doing wrong. And yet, nothing helped. Passing a hand through her hair, she sat down with a sigh of defeat. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. The soft breeze of wind that came through the windows, making the candles flicker, the sharp crackling sounds of the fire in the oven, the distant meowing of a cat- it was the perfect time to cuddle up in bed with a good book and a cup of tea.

“Need a hand?” Miraak’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, almost making her jump in her seat.

“No, I need to figure this out by myself. And besides, you’ll just make fun of me, and right now, I don’t need that.”

“What gave you that impression?” He replied, with what seemed to be an attempt at a smirk- to her, it looked more like those grimaces the gargoyles at the Volkihar castle constantly pulled. “Come on, let me help. I think I know a thing or two about baking.”

Serana rolled her eyes and invited him to the kitchen table. For a moment, he inspected the failed rolls, tearing them open and checking the texture. He moved on to the oven, and back to the table, checking this time the ingredients.

“Well first, your temperatures are all wrong. The oven’s too hot, and your yeast is dying. That’s why you keep failing.” He grabbed the basket full of the failed rolls and threw them out into a trash bin.

“Here’s how it’s done.” Serana moved next to him, almost nervous. Silently, he poured a cupful of flour into a bowl, along with some milk, some sugar, and some yeast he had saved for his daily batch of bread. Passing along the bowl to Serana, she kneaded the dough into a ball, carefully, as if it were the last batch of sweetroll dough left in the world. Covering it with a dampened rag, Miraak let it rest atop a shelf, letting the heat from the oven rise and proof the dough.

“And now we wait.” He said, sitting down. If it were up to him, he’d go back to bed, but he knew that Serana still needed his help, and his support, even if she hid it quite well. She joined him, with a sigh of relief escaping her. She looked outside the window- by now, the sky had lightened a bit, but the sun was still shy, hiding behind the cloudy mountains. She still had a lot ahead of her, but with Miraak at her sides, she wasn’t as nervous as before. Maybe her mother could get her gift just in time for breakfast. Not that she needed it, being a vampire and all, but sweet treats were something that both still enjoyed, and the gesture itself was kind.

“Who’s all this for?” Miraak asked, staring at the crackling firepit in front of them, thin ribbons of white smoke trailing off. He swiftly grabbed a bottle of Sujamma he had kept under his seat and poured two cups, handing one out to Serana. She’d argue that it was too early for him to drink, but she was too exhausted to do so, sipping instead on the bitter drink.

“For my mother. It’s her birthday today, and I guess I wanted to reconnect with her. We used to be on bad terms, but ever since my father’s been out of the picture, we’ve been talking a bit more.” She stopped for a moment, savouring the taste of the alcohol. “It’s been hard, but we’re working on it.”

“Huh. That’s nice.” He finished his cup in one go, putting it down on the table that sat between the two. “I don’t remember my mother at all. I only remember being inducted into a dragon cult as a child, and spending thousands of years in a realm of Oblivion.”

“That’s… rough. Before being locked away, I spent most of my days in the library, or in the undercroft. I didn’t have my first friend until recently.”

“I could say the same. Although I had planned to reclaim Tamriel as mine, this course of action doesn’t bother me much.” He said, passing a hand through his hair. “Life is calm and good. No point in changing anything.”

Serana hummed in agreement, bringing up the cup to her lips. It was the first time that she and Miraak sat down to have a proper conversation. It was nice- her dragonborn usually was there with them to fill in the awkward silences, but now it was just the two of them, sitting by the fireplace, the soft creaking of Breezehome’s old boards singing with the early morning birds. Seconds turned to minutes, waiting for the dough to rise.

Eventually, it was time to shape and bake the rolls. While Miraak buttered the metal moulds and pressed the dough in them, Serana mixed up the finely powdered sugar with a touch of milk and Colovian brandy, creating a sweet frosting. She felt pride starting to swell up in her heart. A master of alchemy and magick, and now, a soon-to-be master of baking. Sure, she needed a lot of training, but with Miraak by her side, she’d learn fast.

The two stayed in front of the oven, watching the pastry slowly rise, filling the home with the sweetest smell. Because of her condition, it was rare that she ate actual food, or craved any, but sweetrolls always had been her weakness. In a place as tough as Tamriel, baked goods were the way to soothe a hardened heart.

“Keep an eye on them.” Miraak mumbled, walking away with a broom in his hands, sweeping up the floors and the front of the house, trying to keep himself busy. Serana went back to her thoughts, taking a moment to herself. In a way, she was glad to be able to completely start over her relationship with her mother. At first, the two fought a bit, about the past, about Harkon. But now, they were ready and willing to repair their bond.

Pulling out the rolls out of the oven, Serana carefully removed them from their mould into a plate, admiring the beautiful golden-brown crust that had formed at the edges, and the steam rising to the ceiling. She placed the plate on the windowsill, letting them cool in the cold morning mist that had taken over the Whiterun plains, rolling down from the hills and the mountains. _It shouldn’t take long,_ she thought to herself, and so she prepared a pot of the canis root tea that she loved so much ever since she had a taste for it in Tel Mithryn. Despite its alchemical properties, simply steeping it in water had a calming effect that she enjoyed after a long night of studying.

She grabbed a jar of the root from a shelf, and grinded its contents into a fine powder. Slowly pouring the powder and some hot water into a flagon, the tea was ready, and the rolls were cool enough, she carefully glazed them with a wooden spoon.

Finally, the birthday breakfast was ready. In a woven basket, she lined its bottom with a piece of green linen fabric, gently placing the sweetrolls in it, along with two cups and the warm flagon of tea. Before heading out, she took a moment to check herself in the mirror. She rearranged the two braids that sat in her hair, retightened her corset, and pulled her black hood over her head. Now, the quiet town had started to wake up, the changing of the guards livening up the empty streets. Chickens quietly pecking, birds flying in the sky.

Inside the Bannered Mare, Hulda was already up and running, rekindling the fires and tending to the hunters that had sought out to go in the woods as early as they could. With a nod, she greeted the innkeeper, making her way to her mother’s room. The old wooden stairs creaked under her weight, almost announcing her arrival. With a deep breath, she knocked once, twice, on the tall door painted with blue, before pushing it open, and laying her eyes upon Valerica with a hint of a smile.

“Happy birthday, mom.”


End file.
